It's about pausing. It's about not letting other people's actions determine my actions.
It's about breathing and understanding that someone else's spiritual sickness does not have to activate my own.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Shameless Stealing Mr. Sponsorpant's perspective.
It's about pausing. It's about not letting other people's actions determine my actions.
It's about breathing and understanding that someone else's spiritual sickness does not have to activate my own.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Flotsam and Jetsam
I chose the title because as a child I loved that combination of words. I remember it today in the same placein my mind where I remember the pungent odors on certain streets in Taipei, Taiwan or in a memory of sea air briny and strong coming to me on a rush of night air. I remember the tree I climbed in Africa where I settled into a comfortable position in the tree limbs with a book and an apple. In those days I read voraciously imagining myself as the heroine of a neighborhood; dashing out into the imagined night imitating the likes of Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton. I saw myself fling a cloak around my shoulders, medicine bag in hand, a carriage waiting in the dark night as rain driven by the wind lashed against my running legs. Headed for the carriage and the person who somewhere in the dark night needed help I saw myself leaping into the carriage, heart pounding, cloaked against the harsh weather abandoning all need of sleep for that dark evening as my mind filled with the task ahead.
Or
Alice in Wonderland. Oh my, how I loved that book. After a time I began to imagine myself with Alice. Each paragraph of the book fed the image I created of myself lost in a land full of strange events, up being down and down being up, the Cheshire cat grinning, fading out of sight without moving a muscle. The mean, sharp-tongued Queen chasing us as we ran from her screeching shouts. Oh how I loved the adventures and characters I met on my way through Wonderland. I spent an inordinate amount of time imagining the mouse in the teacup. My heart sped up as Alice and I became tall and then small ingesting a magic potion at great peril to ourselves. The Mad Hatter, Twiddle-de-dee and Twiddle-de-dumb, the catepillar; all these characters sprung to life as I sat, time after time, reading the story of Alice and her adventures inWonderland.
I could go on and on...The Yearling tore my heart from my chest. Little Women and Jo's Boys drew me into their family so deeply that I thought I would wake up in one of the living room chairs placed by the fireside.
Memories of the day I learned to ride a bicycle. Too short for the height of the bike I devised a method of jumping onto the seat of the bicycle from a nearby cement block. There were more than a few failed attempts. At last I pedaled off into the distance with my feet barely touching the pedals as they rose and fell with the rhythm of my legs. It would be years before I had a bike that fit me. I learned to ride in Africa. Strange how I can see myself jumping from the cement block onto the seat of the bike. It was freedom. Freedom to put distance between myself and home. Freedom to experience the hot African wind blowing through my hair. Freedom to dream. There is something about Africa. I was young when we lived in Ghana, West Africa. I miss Africa. I yearn for it. Something in Africa comes to dwell in a visitor's psyche. It stands the test of time and distance. I have heard many people speak of Africa with a wistful craving.
Enough of my musings. Flotsam and jetsam. Memories. Homesick for the little girl who lived in those times and places I promise to visit again. She waves at me over the long years and I wave back. Until we meet again, my friend.
Or
Alice in Wonderland. Oh my, how I loved that book. After a time I began to imagine myself with Alice. Each paragraph of the book fed the image I created of myself lost in a land full of strange events, up being down and down being up, the Cheshire cat grinning, fading out of sight without moving a muscle. The mean, sharp-tongued Queen chasing us as we ran from her screeching shouts. Oh how I loved the adventures and characters I met on my way through Wonderland. I spent an inordinate amount of time imagining the mouse in the teacup. My heart sped up as Alice and I became tall and then small ingesting a magic potion at great peril to ourselves. The Mad Hatter, Twiddle-de-dee and Twiddle-de-dumb, the catepillar; all these characters sprung to life as I sat, time after time, reading the story of Alice and her adventures inWonderland.
I could go on and on...The Yearling tore my heart from my chest. Little Women and Jo's Boys drew me into their family so deeply that I thought I would wake up in one of the living room chairs placed by the fireside.
Memories of the day I learned to ride a bicycle. Too short for the height of the bike I devised a method of jumping onto the seat of the bicycle from a nearby cement block. There were more than a few failed attempts. At last I pedaled off into the distance with my feet barely touching the pedals as they rose and fell with the rhythm of my legs. It would be years before I had a bike that fit me. I learned to ride in Africa. Strange how I can see myself jumping from the cement block onto the seat of the bike. It was freedom. Freedom to put distance between myself and home. Freedom to experience the hot African wind blowing through my hair. Freedom to dream. There is something about Africa. I was young when we lived in Ghana, West Africa. I miss Africa. I yearn for it. Something in Africa comes to dwell in a visitor's psyche. It stands the test of time and distance. I have heard many people speak of Africa with a wistful craving.
Enough of my musings. Flotsam and jetsam. Memories. Homesick for the little girl who lived in those times and places I promise to visit again. She waves at me over the long years and I wave back. Until we meet again, my friend.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Whee Doggie!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
If you're happy and you know it then you smile will surely show it!
If you're happy and you know it clap your hands!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
So Ya Think Ya Know Everthing?
Whew! What a day! I am working at my home job taking calls and about an hour out from quitting time when my mother calls my name. I think maybe she just wants me to fix somthing on the ipad for her so I take a couple more calls when she calls out again with emphasis. She says she is calling the rescue squad to come to the house. Easy going daughter goes into solution mode immediately. Call rescue squad, cancel hours for next day's work, assist in answering rescue squad's questions, call the appropriate family and church numbers. Arrange for someone to bring hubby supper and cat
food for the felines, get in the car and head for the hospital.
Mom was hurting all over and shaking like a leaf in a swirling blast of autumn air and nauseated.
She is southern to the core. She would never call the rescue squad under her own power and certainly would not allow them to pick her up with her nightgown and slippers on...a short nightgown at that with all her Christmas (what my granny use to call "it") showing at one time or the other. This is what told me, more than an other thing, that my mother was suffering.
I had noticed a slow decline in her energy level and she complained of having no energy, no motivation, no desire to do what she knew she had done until recently. This "something is wrong" thing nagged my brain to the point that I called my sister and voiced my concerns. We put it up to old age and lack of exercise. Mom was staying home more and more. She never felt well enough to keep up with her yoga, exercising and church attendance. She was peevish, lacking in motivation and miserable. So it came as no surprise to me that something was physically wrong with her. I was grateful. I thought she was slowly going crazy. I was not prepared for the answer to her numerous symptoms.
Mother tested well on everything. Still there was the fact that she was changing in a number of ways and that she was in pain. Real pain. I spoke with the doctor. I mentioned her constant use of her ipad. Bingo!! My mother suffers from extreme ipad use. The muscles in her neck, shoulders, back and even in her legs have, over a period of time, all become compromised thru basic repetitive motion while using the ipad. Head bent over, shoulders pulled forward and out to hold the ipad and use it. Lack of motivation, what appeared as depression, no energy, all of it part of her hours and hours on the ipad.
Well, ya coulda knocked me over with a feather! 85 years old, sitting in her easy chair plays games and reads facebook until her body screamed, "ENOUGH!!" Who knew? Not in a million years did I see that coming. I was relieved. Mom is sore and hurting but not dying with heart fibrillations.
So I brought her home, called my sister who is the bad cop to my good cop relationship with mom. I left mom's to go home for awhile. My sister told me to hand mom the phone and proceeded to take her to school because , I had whispered to her on the phone,that our mother was already playing on her ipad. I dropped that bomb on the bad cop and fled mom's house. Like I said, my sister plays a gread bad cop. I drop the ball in front of her and she kicks it through the goal.
Never believe a day is going to follow the path you laid out for yourself. It ain't gonna happen. Flow with the day. If it bears garbage and vermins, flow with it. If it bears the boredom and day after day monotony of plans set in stone years ago, flow with it. If it fills you with joy and happiness flow with it.
Thus my title: So Ya Think Ya Know Everything? I'm laughing. Hard. Go on with your bad self. Let me watch for a change. I thought I had seen everything. HA!! My 85 year old mother is an IPAD junky and now she has the creds to show it!
Word to Ya Mama!
food for the felines, get in the car and head for the hospital.
Mom was hurting all over and shaking like a leaf in a swirling blast of autumn air and nauseated.
She is southern to the core. She would never call the rescue squad under her own power and certainly would not allow them to pick her up with her nightgown and slippers on...a short nightgown at that with all her Christmas (what my granny use to call "it") showing at one time or the other. This is what told me, more than an other thing, that my mother was suffering.
I had noticed a slow decline in her energy level and she complained of having no energy, no motivation, no desire to do what she knew she had done until recently. This "something is wrong" thing nagged my brain to the point that I called my sister and voiced my concerns. We put it up to old age and lack of exercise. Mom was staying home more and more. She never felt well enough to keep up with her yoga, exercising and church attendance. She was peevish, lacking in motivation and miserable. So it came as no surprise to me that something was physically wrong with her. I was grateful. I thought she was slowly going crazy. I was not prepared for the answer to her numerous symptoms.
Mother tested well on everything. Still there was the fact that she was changing in a number of ways and that she was in pain. Real pain. I spoke with the doctor. I mentioned her constant use of her ipad. Bingo!! My mother suffers from extreme ipad use. The muscles in her neck, shoulders, back and even in her legs have, over a period of time, all become compromised thru basic repetitive motion while using the ipad. Head bent over, shoulders pulled forward and out to hold the ipad and use it. Lack of motivation, what appeared as depression, no energy, all of it part of her hours and hours on the ipad.
Well, ya coulda knocked me over with a feather! 85 years old, sitting in her easy chair plays games and reads facebook until her body screamed, "ENOUGH!!" Who knew? Not in a million years did I see that coming. I was relieved. Mom is sore and hurting but not dying with heart fibrillations.
So I brought her home, called my sister who is the bad cop to my good cop relationship with mom. I left mom's to go home for awhile. My sister told me to hand mom the phone and proceeded to take her to school because , I had whispered to her on the phone,that our mother was already playing on her ipad. I dropped that bomb on the bad cop and fled mom's house. Like I said, my sister plays a gread bad cop. I drop the ball in front of her and she kicks it through the goal.
Never believe a day is going to follow the path you laid out for yourself. It ain't gonna happen. Flow with the day. If it bears garbage and vermins, flow with it. If it bears the boredom and day after day monotony of plans set in stone years ago, flow with it. If it fills you with joy and happiness flow with it.
Thus my title: So Ya Think Ya Know Everything? I'm laughing. Hard. Go on with your bad self. Let me watch for a change. I thought I had seen everything. HA!! My 85 year old mother is an IPAD junky and now she has the creds to show it!
Word to Ya Mama!
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Growing Pains
All in all I consider myself , with a degree of smug satisfaction, to be a person who has come a long way in my spiritual walk. It is this belief system that has been challenged of late. An awareness of habits I have or behaviors I allow in myself has been quickened.
What's that? Prove it! O.K. Not a problem for me at this moment because the light is shining on a few of these behaviors. As is often the case my behaviors are of the garden variety. For a woman who takes herself too damn seriously every day of her life the idea of being "garden variety" is not easy to swallow. At the age of 62 I have less energy to perpetuate the myth of uniqueness. This myth vanishes when I am confronted with character defects that are juvenile nor are they innocent. Sigh! Here goes a confession of the most boring garden variety character defects imaginable. Yet the most capable of ruin for me and for others.
1. Gossip/Character assassination: Cunning and adept at dressing up in the garment of "concern" for others, this pig of a behavior is still a pig no matter the disguise. Oh, how safe I have felt trading stories, judging the behaviors of others, speaking of matters with no actual truths to back them up and, absolutely for their own good, of course for their own good. I have miles and miles of memory tapes I could review to find myself practicing this fine art. SO WHAT IS THE POINT?
My Father says, "Thou shalt not murder" Thou shalt not bear false witness" "Thou shalt not covet! " My Father says that I should love my neighbor as I love myself. Oh the burden of this awareness. My Father is loving me with growing pains! He is showing me the ugly truth of gossip and my whole-hearted participation in it. He is opening my eyes to see that I particularly enjoy talking about my brothers and sisters in Christ. This is painful. I feel ashamed. I want to hide from Him!
Yet, He loves me beyond measure. Even as I begin to shed this character defect He reaches to grow me up! He shows me how I can love the ones I have so smugly trashed with my gossiping. He is revealing to me how I can move from destroying to uplifting, from my way to His desire.
It must be late. Probably close to morning. I know most people who read this blog...all ten of you, lol, may wish I would lighten up. Well, I got lit up, if that counts, and I gotta be me! I am my Father's precious daughter. I am a child of the King!
What's that? Prove it! O.K. Not a problem for me at this moment because the light is shining on a few of these behaviors. As is often the case my behaviors are of the garden variety. For a woman who takes herself too damn seriously every day of her life the idea of being "garden variety" is not easy to swallow. At the age of 62 I have less energy to perpetuate the myth of uniqueness. This myth vanishes when I am confronted with character defects that are juvenile nor are they innocent. Sigh! Here goes a confession of the most boring garden variety character defects imaginable. Yet the most capable of ruin for me and for others.
1. Gossip/Character assassination: Cunning and adept at dressing up in the garment of "concern" for others, this pig of a behavior is still a pig no matter the disguise. Oh, how safe I have felt trading stories, judging the behaviors of others, speaking of matters with no actual truths to back them up and, absolutely for their own good, of course for their own good. I have miles and miles of memory tapes I could review to find myself practicing this fine art. SO WHAT IS THE POINT?
My Father says, "Thou shalt not murder" Thou shalt not bear false witness" "Thou shalt not covet! " My Father says that I should love my neighbor as I love myself. Oh the burden of this awareness. My Father is loving me with growing pains! He is showing me the ugly truth of gossip and my whole-hearted participation in it. He is opening my eyes to see that I particularly enjoy talking about my brothers and sisters in Christ. This is painful. I feel ashamed. I want to hide from Him!
Yet, He loves me beyond measure. Even as I begin to shed this character defect He reaches to grow me up! He shows me how I can love the ones I have so smugly trashed with my gossiping. He is revealing to me how I can move from destroying to uplifting, from my way to His desire.
It must be late. Probably close to morning. I know most people who read this blog...all ten of you, lol, may wish I would lighten up. Well, I got lit up, if that counts, and I gotta be me! I am my Father's precious daughter. I am a child of the King!
Thursday, April 24, 2014
I Uncover A Fly In The Ointment Of My Thinking
Recently a friend of mine helped me get a dramatic discount on something I legitimately needed but could not afford at full price. Her gesture meant that a pet of mine received the care it needed. I was deeply appreciative.Tonight my mind opened up a bit. In the program I attend we speak often on honesty and what honesty looks like..little white lie, outright lying, lying with ill intent, etc. Also at the church I attend we speak of walking our talk. Between the program and my faith honesty becomes an important component of spiritual health, physical health and so much more. I have heard that I am only as sick as my secrets. I wholeheartedly subscribe to this powerful concept having spent many years keeping secrets, running from the uncomfortable light of truth. My reasons were many. Fear probably tops the list of my motivations.
So, I started to feel uncomfortable. I examined this awesome gesture from my friend under the light of truth. Did anyone have to lie, either by action or omission of the facts? Yes! All parties involved agreed quietly to make the arrangement and to be available to ensure it happened without any trouble. Did this act rob anyone? Yes, it directly robbed the business owner who generously allows perks to his employees which he trusts will not be abused. Was anyone harmed? My grandson who went with me and overheard the conversation about waiting for the right time so my friend would be available to provide the savings. What did that choice teach my grandson? It sure looks like grandma and her friends can make agreements that require secrecy! That there are times when we agree to hide the truth from others and it is o.k. to do wrong when it benefits us. Yet I will always teach him that telling the truth is a core component of trust between ourselves and others. My choice to ask my friend to provide this service directly led her into a situation that required her to fabricate and manipulate so that I could get an awesome bargain.
So...the world did not stop spinning and my animal is better off now and I appreciated my friend's offer of help but I will not be doing it again.My pastor once taught us that recording music from a friend's collection into our own collection was stealing. The music is sold for a reason. Taking that one small step of avoiding paying for music was a lie, a theft and wrong. Yes, we all want a bargain...you wash my back and I will wash your back kind of thing. But, for me, the choice is a first step down a long and slippery road. Darn it all!
So, I started to feel uncomfortable. I examined this awesome gesture from my friend under the light of truth. Did anyone have to lie, either by action or omission of the facts? Yes! All parties involved agreed quietly to make the arrangement and to be available to ensure it happened without any trouble. Did this act rob anyone? Yes, it directly robbed the business owner who generously allows perks to his employees which he trusts will not be abused. Was anyone harmed? My grandson who went with me and overheard the conversation about waiting for the right time so my friend would be available to provide the savings. What did that choice teach my grandson? It sure looks like grandma and her friends can make agreements that require secrecy! That there are times when we agree to hide the truth from others and it is o.k. to do wrong when it benefits us. Yet I will always teach him that telling the truth is a core component of trust between ourselves and others. My choice to ask my friend to provide this service directly led her into a situation that required her to fabricate and manipulate so that I could get an awesome bargain.
So...the world did not stop spinning and my animal is better off now and I appreciated my friend's offer of help but I will not be doing it again.My pastor once taught us that recording music from a friend's collection into our own collection was stealing. The music is sold for a reason. Taking that one small step of avoiding paying for music was a lie, a theft and wrong. Yes, we all want a bargain...you wash my back and I will wash your back kind of thing. But, for me, the choice is a first step down a long and slippery road. Darn it all!
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Random Thinking
I have country songs stuck in my head. One of them is a Glen Campbell song. I like the guy. It's just that to me he is the Barry Manilow of country. I liked it better when I had Hank Williams stuck in my head singing, "Hank why do you drink?........It's a family tradition!" None of these can compare to the days when I have the Goofy Goober song from Spongebob Squarepants on repeat play up in my head. "I'm a goofy goober yeah! You're a goofy goober yeah!..." Once in awhile a Veggie Tale song will trail through. I especially love the cheeseburger song. These will get mixed in with short memories of The Pee Wee Herman show or snippets from Groucho Marx.
Forget about it if classical music is playing. I am either reminded of every old cartoon I saw with the dancing and singing flowers and the buzzing bees or Snow White running through the frightening, gnarly forest trees as the wind whipped around her and the branches seemed to reach out to grab her. The classical music for those cartoons fed my imagination bringing more and more into that world and further from my seat on the floor.
Or, classical music again, I choreographic dances and musicals in my head as the music plays. I may be still on the outside. On the inside I am busy placing dancers, imagining their dances and the scenes.
But opera? Oh dear opera of mine! I have no idea what they are saying but I love it anyway. When I play opera music I become an opera star. I sing out with all I have to give and throw my arms wide in the pathos of the story. It does not matter that I don't know the story or that I sound like a feral cat gone mad or that I have about five feet of space. No! What matters is the absolute and complete majesty of the opera music and the opera singer bursting forth in utter abandonment to the experience.
Rock and roll? Oh hell yeah!! I don't become anyone else or build scenarios or pretend that I can sing those songs. They are my heart. They are at the birth of me. Jazz, blues, soul music, Dylan, beach music, The Supremes....does it get any better?
Gospel music makes a fool outta me. I sing, dance and amen right along with the songs wishing I had a church to be jumping and praising God in as the music calls me higher and higher. I hope there is Gospel Music in Heaven.
That's about it! Sweet Dreams!
Forget about it if classical music is playing. I am either reminded of every old cartoon I saw with the dancing and singing flowers and the buzzing bees or Snow White running through the frightening, gnarly forest trees as the wind whipped around her and the branches seemed to reach out to grab her. The classical music for those cartoons fed my imagination bringing more and more into that world and further from my seat on the floor.
Or, classical music again, I choreographic dances and musicals in my head as the music plays. I may be still on the outside. On the inside I am busy placing dancers, imagining their dances and the scenes.
But opera? Oh dear opera of mine! I have no idea what they are saying but I love it anyway. When I play opera music I become an opera star. I sing out with all I have to give and throw my arms wide in the pathos of the story. It does not matter that I don't know the story or that I sound like a feral cat gone mad or that I have about five feet of space. No! What matters is the absolute and complete majesty of the opera music and the opera singer bursting forth in utter abandonment to the experience.
Rock and roll? Oh hell yeah!! I don't become anyone else or build scenarios or pretend that I can sing those songs. They are my heart. They are at the birth of me. Jazz, blues, soul music, Dylan, beach music, The Supremes....does it get any better?
Gospel music makes a fool outta me. I sing, dance and amen right along with the songs wishing I had a church to be jumping and praising God in as the music calls me higher and higher. I hope there is Gospel Music in Heaven.
That's about it! Sweet Dreams!
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